


And Fear As My Companion

by Sylphidine_Gallimaufry



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Families of Choice, Fix-It, Gen, Illustrations, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pitch Black (Guardians of Childhood) Needs a Hug, Tags May Change, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-02-10 23:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylphidine_Gallimaufry/pseuds/Sylphidine_Gallimaufry
Summary: A Time Lord exiled on Earth. An elemental spirit diminished by the passage of Time. Pitch Black and The Third Doctor find each other to be a cause for curiosity. Set between the DOCTOR WHO stories "Spearhead From Space" and "Planet Of The Spiders". Also set before the 2012 events of RISE OF THE GUARDIANS. Gonna be a weird blend of ROTG movieverse and GOC bookverse, because, y'know, wibbly wobbly timey wimey.All artwork provided byKS_Clawand should not be reproduced without permission.





	1. Vortex I

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been kicking around in my brain for years, the plot generated in my head mere hours after seeing the movie RISE OF THE GUARDIANS. Melding it with my favourite Doctor just seemed a natural fit. 
> 
> Other stories took precedence in getting written, but this one has always been bubbling away on the back burner of my mind, and now seems to be a good time to get it out of my brain and onto the page. 
> 
> We'll see whether the execution lives up to the idea. Kudos, commentary, and constructive criticism most welcome!

The shuddering form on the floor breathed harshly in syncopy with the rise and fall of the center column.  Dim light cast everything into shadows like pools of tar, where anything might have hidden.

 

“Are you still here?” the broken creature asked in a rasping wheeze, all its customary hauteur worn away by pain.

 

“Yes, indeed.  Where else would you expect me to be?” came the immediate reply, spoken in a voice that was smooth without being unctuous, a voice more sharp than warm, but somehow comforting in the precision of its enunciation.  Its owner came into view. “I really don’t think that last sideslip did either of us any good.”

 

“Would it be tempting Fate to say that things could hardly be worse at the moment?”

 

“I would have to think so, yes.”

 

The prone one groaned, tried to sit up, and craned his neck to lock eyes with the other occupant of the TARDIS console room.

 

Seven mismatched and misshapen eyes looked back into his.  Those with eyelids blinked with disconcerting effect.

 

The Doctor could not help but laugh, despite his injured state.  “You should wear that look more often. Then people would really believe in the Boogeyman.”

 

“Oh ha ha.  Very droll,” Pitch snapped.

 

The vortex had toyed with them both again, and neither the Time Lord nor his companion were any nearer to Earth.


	2. Spearhead I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a certain Time Lord lands on Earth in disadvantageous circumstances, and a certain spirit of Fear finds something to take advantage of after centuries of being dismissed.

The trees whispered their secrets above him.  

Flat on his back under the oaks, Pitch Black brooded; the shadowy edges of his robe rippled and blended in with the dark leaf loam.  Animals and insects sensed something about him and avoided feeding near him or crawling over his prone body.

But at least the animals and insects **saw** him. Here in Epping Forest, some of the most ancient spirits of the earth still dwelt. Thanks to the predations of humanity, many spirits had become so diffuse and weak that they were nearly transparent.

The irony that he needed humanity as dearly and damningly as most elementals needed to _avoid_ humanity was a frequent thought that crossed the Boogeyman’s mind.

Today that thought did not amuse him, darkly or otherwise.

The blasted Moon was finally no longer visible over the treetops in the early morning sunlight.  Last night had been freakishly warm for an October night in Britain, coinciding with a meteor shower that was visible all over the local area where Pitch now sulked.  While he was pleased with the noticeable spike in fear and bad dreams that had resulted from the unexpected space phenomenon and the even more unexpected heatwave, he knew said spike would not last.

As the locals around here would say, he had to take his bite and sup where he could get it, or go without.

He was so, so tired of going without.

Suddenly there was a burst of movement in his line of sight as two deer and several hares ran past him in terror, frantic to make their escape from a whistling sound.  Pitch doubted that they had been spooked by the exceedingly clumsy poacher who thought himself hidden in the woods.  But without warning the air grew much warmer and there was an impact of something hitting the earth with an impressive force, almost but not quite drowning out another noise, an odd noise...

There had been a a sort of groaning shriek, more machine than animal, last night in the midst of the meteor storm.  This was the same sound, muffled and much weaker.

Something about the sound itched the back of Pitch's mind and niggled away at his thoughts, like a memory just out of reach. Unbidden, he was picturing the vastness between stars.

He also sensed fear, a more potent and concentrated fear than he'd felt from any animal or human in decades.

Sulking had its temporary charms, but curiosity won out.  He coiled his shadows around him and disappeared into their depths, emerging some distance away where he'd pinpointed the source of both the noise and the fear.

A tall blue wooden box stood in the middle of the forest, a box with a light on top that flashed fitfully and weakly.  A box that was completely out of place in woodlands, which belonged on street corners in cities and on village greens in the country. A box that groaned and shuddered for a few minutes, but that ceased to groan and shudder as Pitch Black gazed upon it.  

It was a police box. 

Pitch had an inexplicable fondness for police boxes, since those humans who used them were usually in a heightened state of anxiety.  He was less fond of the metropolitan centres in which they were usually found, since it was unavoidable that he'd be walked through by scores of humans over time, while he was just trying to collect those meagre scraps of anxiety.

Why was there a police box in the forest... in _**his**_ forest, his favourite sulking spot?

Before the Boogeyman could reflect further on that thought, he saw something that set him back on his metaphorical pins.  The door of the police box opened, and a disheveled figure emerged. A tall man with a thick mop of grey-white hair, dressed in a threadbare black coat and checkered pants the likes of which had not seen since the turn of the century, clutched the doorjamb with one shaking hand.  He stumbled forward and fell face-first into a pile of bracken.

The fear coming off this man in waves was absolutely delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days short of the RISE OF THE GUARDIANS anniversary, and one day off from the DOCTOR WHO anniversary, but here's a new chapter.

**Author's Note:**

>  **NOTES FROM SYLPH** :
> 
> First and foremost, my eternal amazement at and admiration for [ KS_Claw's artwork](https://www.deviantart.com/ks-claw). It's gobsmacking to me that someone can so perfectly render in visual form what I've been plotting for almost half a decade.
> 
> Second, my thanks to [David Bishop](http://viciousimagery.blogspot.com/). I have leaned quite heavily on his book [ WHO KILLED KENNEDY](http://doctorwho.org.nz/archive/wkk/) for events in the Third Doctor era that occurred at very precise times of year, ie. autumn or springtime. Due to the "UNIT dating controversy", however, I have chosen not to specify the years in which those events occurred. 
> 
> And last, I am very grateful for the existence of [The Doctor Who Transcripts site](http://www.chakoteya.net/DoctorWho/index.html). While I have viewed the episodes cited in this story many, many times, there's always the chance of missing something, the webmaster's precision has kept me on my literary toes.


End file.
